Friction (Oath Keepers MC Book 5)

By: Sapphire Knight

“Is this your room?”

“Yeah, you said you wanted to shower and take a nap; 2’s room is full, so…”

“Thank you. A shower would be amazing.”

He gestures toward another door to the left. “Use watcha’ want. I’mma get you a snack, you can lay down if you need to rest. Something you craving?” He nods at my tummy.

“Anything with peanut butter, please.”

“Bet,” he replies and leaves me standing in the middle of his room.

Silas was a pretty big neat freak, but that was from his OCD. He couldn’t help it; he had to have certain things in a specific way. This takes it to a new level entirely. You’d think the room was newly moved into or something, and Twist appears way too comfortable to just be joining the club.

His room’s pretty bare: he has a nice desk, a fancy blue guitar, regular plain bedroom furniture, and no decorations. Just blank walls and clean surfaces. Weird. Maybe he’s not here much?

Jumping in the shower, I relish in scrubbing my body clean in his dial soap. He has some beard shampoo so I use that for my hair. It’s probably better than nothing. There’s only one towel hanging up. I feel bad using his stuff like that, but he offered, and I’m too tired to really care at the moment.

I don’t have any clean clothes in here, and I don’t want to put my dirty ones back on. I wonder if he would care if I at least borrowed a shirt. Shrugging, I help myself and nose through his closet, coming away with a pair of army sweat pants and a basic shirt.

It’s perfect. Once I dress, I decide that lying down for a little while won’t hurt; I’ll fix his bed again when he comes back.

My head hits his pillow and it smells like pure man heaven. Geez, I’ve hated being so alone during the first portion of my pregnancy. A man’s scent can do wonders for a woman, and a face like that? God.

My legs clench tightly as I picture him, but don’t get much further as I drift off into a deep sleep.

She likes peanut butter, huh? 2 Piece and I have our differences, but I would want him to take care of my sister if she showed up. Doesn’t matter, I don’t even gotta sister. Regardless, she looked like she was about to fall over where she stood, least I can do is make her a peanut butter sandwich.

I wonder if she’s getting enough calcium. I’ll bring her a glass of milk too. Cain won’t mind if I use his. And potassium, I’ll bring her one of Ares’ bananas; he doesn’t care. We need a tray or some shit. Rooting through the cabinets, I come back empty handed, but we have a large plate the whores use to display food, so that should work.

I pile everything on the plate, grab a few paper towels, and head back to my room. The chick’s probably starving. Fuck, she’s gorgeous! Just like a bright ray of sunshine with those long blonde locks and deep tan all put together with some cherry red painted toes. Her being pregnant just makes her even sexier. I love a woman with hips, gives you somethin’ to hold onto. Only thing better would be to paint her lips red to match.

My pants grow tighter as I start to get a chubby. Not much I can do about it right now though. Just the thought of her with red lips and them wrapped around my cock makes me groan with need.

I pass Cain in the hallway and he chuckles when he sees me loaded down. “You making me lunch next?”

“Fuck you. Ask Cupcake to get your shit; she’s your bitch, not me.”

“No, I’m good bro, she made me some lasagna.” He flashes a smile and I use my empty hand to throw him the bird.

Fucker’s spoiled by London. Lucky bastard. Cupcake’s a good woman; I don’t blame him for locking that shit down so quickly. I think we all would’ve done the same, given the chance we were to meet someone like her.

My room’s quiet when I arrive; no running shower, just a sleeping Goldie Locks in the middle of my bed. Her damp hair’s spread out behind her. It’s so long; I noticed it right away and how it goes all the way down to her ass. Her petite hands are tucked under her cheek, and her lips are parted allowing soft quiet breaths to escape. That mouth is enough to make a man sin.

Setting the platter down, I continue my perusal. Definitely wearing my T, which is sexy as all hell. My gaze travels further, her legs just positioned enough I can make out ‘ARMY’ spelled down the other leg and it feels like someone sucker-punched me. Marissa.

My wife wore those pants all the time, then my T shirt and her blonde hair. Fuck. I begin to hyperventilate, so I rush to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking myself in. I want to puke, but I stop myself. I’ve lost too much weight as it is, with the dreams and flashbacks.

My back hits the wall, and I slide down it until my ass lands on the ground, my hands yanking at my hair roughly as the voice starts. Her voice. My daughter.

She’s pwetty, Daddy.

I can’t talk right now, baby. I think and take deep breaths.

Touch hew hair, Daddy; it’s soo long.

Shhh, please! Not now, baby.

Wrenching up to my feet, I shuck my clothes and get into the shower. Turning the spray as cold as possible, my eyes squeeze closed, trying to get my little girl to quiet for the moment. I love talking to her, but I can’t do it right now with Sadie here. It’s not normal to talk to your kid all the time in front of people, when she’s fucking dead.